


you and I, alone upon the earth

by moonlitpyre



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Byleth had nightmares, Dimitri is a gentle and comforting husband, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Canon, referenced character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24529849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlitpyre/pseuds/moonlitpyre
Summary: Another silent tear ran down her cheek as a sob escaped her lips. How much had she longed to see him again, to be able to change his fate, to celebrate all her victories with him, and share each moment—the good and the bad, all that she had accomplished in the past year. She liked to think he would be proud of her, happy to share her happiness, saddened whenever things didn’t go as planned. But all that she had now was those old memories, and the never ending pain of being forced to see him as he fell.After a moment she let out a sigh and attempted to clean up her tears. It was perhaps a good time to turn on her heel and leave the room, a good time to catch a breath of fresh air, to take a sword and practice until she felt tired, even if it would only bring memories she had shared with her father. But when she pushed down the sheets that had covered her almost bare legs, she heard a rustling beside her, and a fluttering blue eye gazing back at her.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 13
Kudos: 119





	you and I, alone upon the earth

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this [tweet](https://twitter.com/HollyFig/status/1261298539969339395?s=20) a couple of weeks ago and I wanted to try my hand at writing something, albeit rather short.
> 
> Many thanks to my friend Niky who helped me beta read.
> 
> Title comes from the poem Always, by Pablo Neruda.

Byleth sat straight on the bed, cold sweat dripping from her forehead, hot tears threatening to spill from the corner of her eyes. 

She could still hear the voice of her father, feel the raindrops touch her skin, making her shiver from the cold. He had looked so peaceful when he had last spoken to her, a small smile spreading across his lips as he murmured how happy he was that her first tears were shed for him. It made Byleth’s stomach squirm with guilt, her tears flooding rapidly as his blood seared into her coat. She couldn’t remember how long she had been there, couldn’t even remember who had carried her back to the monastery when she could barely stand still—her legs numb from all the time she had spent sitting on the grass with her father’s head laying on her lap. She could only remember the ache in her chest, the desperation she couldn’t quite let go of, even years after it happened.

Byleth took a deep, ragged breath, hot tears running from her cheeks. She had to remind herself she wasn’t reliving it all, that this wasn’t yet another failed attempt to save her father, that his empty eyes weren’t searing into her own—void of any of that glinting life that reminded Byleth she was home, all as long as she was with him.

The cold from the winter had made its way into her room, sending chills across her uncovered arms and legs—a frightful reminder of all that had happened six years prior. It still felt as though it had only been months, perhaps a year. The memory of all the time she had spent sleeping made her more guilty. It had been five years she had spent without visiting his grave, without praying for his soul to have found rest, without uttering a word of hope or love in his direction, not a memory or a song.

Dimitri had been right, of course. Were it not for the habitual nightmares, Byleth could see herself forgetting his face with the passage of time, and the thought of never seeing him again, not even in all such horrible dreams, frightened her. She didn’t want her father to be a passing memory, a legend shared between children about a fearless knight who had once served the archbishop and her army. She wanted him to be her father, the loving man who had raised her to follow in his footsteps and had taught her how to fight and defend herself from a very young age—the patient man who waited for her to understand all which he explained, the one who had cared for her regardless of her own inability to show emotion, the one who laughed at her blank jokes, who smiled pleasantly whenever she had accomplished a goal. Her father, her mentor, the first person she had ever loved.

She made an effort to dry the tears that continued to fall down her cheeks, and shifted her gaze to the window by her side. Snow fell quietly through the night, painting the mountains into pearls, covering the trees and bushes with its chill. She remembered of a time when she was little, as several of her memories had returned when Sothis had merged with her. She and her father were travelling through Faerghus in a Lone Moon, the remnants of winter still filtering through Fódlan, but remaining strong in Faerghus. It had been the first time she had ever seen the snow. Her father had taken her to the mountains to gaze at the beauty of whatever village they had found themselves in, and brought her up to his shoulders so she could attempt to touch the snowflakes that fell on her eyelids and cheeks. She hadn’t the ability then to express the wonder she felt upon such a sight, but she had been happy, excited even—as happy as she had ever been.

Another silent tear ran down her cheek as a sob escaped her lips. How much had she longed to see him again, to be able to change his fate, to celebrate all her victories with him, and share each moment—the good and the bad, all that she had accomplished in the past year. She liked to think he would be proud of her, happy to share her happiness, saddened whenever things didn’t go as planned. But all that she had now was those old memories, and the never ending pain of being forced to see him as he fell.

She wrapped her arms around her knees, gentle sobs escaping her lips, hot tears running freely down her cheeks. There was no point in fighting it now, not when the memory of that damned day had become so vivid again, almost as vivid as in her dreams—almost as vivid as on that day. 

After a moment she let out a sigh and attempted to clean up her tears. It was perhaps a good time to turn on her heel and leave the room, a good time to catch a breath of fresh air, to take a sword and practice until she felt tired, even if it would only bring memories she had shared with her father. But when she pushed down the sheets that had covered her almost bare legs, she heard a rustling beside her, and a fluttering blue eye gazing back at her.

“Beloved,” Dimitri asked, his voice gentle and drowsy. His eyebrows were furrowed with concern, and Byleth felt a pang of guilt for having awoken him. “What’s the matter?” 

“It’s nothing,” Byleth quavered. She attempted to brush off the tears that ran down her face—one that fell all the way down to her neck, when Dimitri sat up on the bed beside her.

He wrapped his arms around her, allowing for her head to fall against his chest. It was a rather common occurrence, for his arms to wrap around her on cold nights when the weather was too difficult to bear, or those days when she was down and ill, or those restless nights when her own dreams had turned against her, haunting her until the breaking of dawn. “Did you have another nightmare?”

Byleth nodded quietly, another tear escaping from her eye as she pressed her nose against the crook of Dimitri’s neck. “I dreamt about my father,” she said between sobs, “About that horrible day. I still miss him so much, Dimitri.”

Dimitri pressed a gentle kiss on the top of Byleth’s head, then let out a breath. “I know,” he whispered sadly, his fingers running soothing circles against her spine. Although she couldn’t see him, she could imagine his pained expression, the way his face contorted with worry for her, for his own inability to bring her father back to life if it would please her. Byleth clutched tighter onto him, both too quiet and too aware of each of their losses.

He allowed for her to cry for a long moment, his fingers never leaving her back, his arms never leaving her sides. It was Byleth who had pushed him gently away, her wide green eyes locking with his own. She was certain of how terrible she ought to have looked in that moment, of how damp her face had become, of all the locks of hair that had glued to her face—but he didn’t mind.

“Wherever your father is, I know he’s very proud of you,” Dimitri said gently, his fingers trailing to hide a lock of hair behind her ear. He pressed a soft kiss on her temple before he continued. “I only had a chance to speak with him a few times, shared a drink with him once even—although I would rather keep that story for another time. He would always say how much he longed to see you happy, to see you smile. He spoke about how good of a decision it was for you to come with us to the monastery after all, of how happy you had become with us around you. He would always praise your skills, your kindness and understanding, had talked about how proud he was of the woman you’d become. I can only imagine how proud he would be of all that you’ve achieved in the past year.”

Dimitri kissed her knuckles and continued. “No matter how much time passes, those who love us always stay. And perhaps we might not see them, and perhaps those last memories of them torment us almost every night, but we ought to remember how much they loved us, how happy they would be to see us now—even in the darkest moments, even when our minds tell us otherwise. Your father may have parted from this earth, but he’ll always be with you in your memories, alongside your mother within your heart. And remember that whatever comes to pass, whatever nightmares haunt you, I shall always be here right by your side.”

“Thank you, Dimitri,” she said softly, holding tightly to his chest. She laid her head against the crook of his neck and hid in there as her last few tears fell. 

When she felt more at ease, he gently laid himself and her back onto the bed, holding her tightly against his chest, caressing her hair as her breathing evened. He hummed a beautiful song she had come to memorise, a lullaby women around Faerghus sang to their children when they couldn’t sleep—a song Dimitri had listened to throughout his childhood that his own father once sang to him. 

When her eyes closed and sleep had found her again, Byleth dreamt of a wedding that had come to pass only a few months back, where all eyes were set on her and her beautiful wedding gown. But this time the wedding was different, for there was a new guest Byleth hadn’t caught the first time—a man with a long figure who had smiled at her brightly as he walked her down the aisle. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
